Page 86 of Cruel Hearts

Jesus Christ.

Does everyone have to be in love with Stella?

I can hardly blame them.

Though I was wrong about Max. He hasn’t moved an inch away from Zarah, and they sit near each other, his arm along the top of the loveseat in the classic move of “I want to put my arm around you, but I don’t want to look like I do.”

She’s leaning into him, too.

I hope she feels safe around him.

“I’m going to help Quinn wash her hair in the Honeymoon Suite.” Stella pauses. “Zane.”

“What is it?”

“Quinn and I need clothes. We don’t have much...”

“I know. I’ll ask Mel to order you a few things.”

“And something to eat, please.”

She brushes her mouth against mine, her lips trembling, and everything she asks me to do is worth that whisper of a kiss.

I don’t know much about women’s clothes, and I have to ask Stella and Quinn what their sizes are. I won’t try to guess. Quinn answers for both of them, and huddled together, they step into the hallway.

I write down their sizes and a list of boutiques Zarah liked to shop at before her breakdown and ask Mel to order whatever she thinks Stella and Quinn are going to need for the next few weeks. She knows more than me. I pull my credit card out of my wallet and tell her while she’s at it to order dinner from a nearby restaurant that will deliver to the hotel.

Nathalie still hasn’t shown up, but I’ll wait another hour then call her. Like Stella and Zarah, she doesn’t know what freedom feels like, and if she’s using the time to pretend she’s a normal woman enjoying a day of shopping, I won’t interfere.

Everything is under control, and I choose a bed in one of the bedrooms connected to the Presidential Suite.

I am so tired, and I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow. At one point, I wake up briefly, and Stella’s wrapped around me. I let my exhaustion pull me under, her head on my chest.

When I wake up again, she’s gone.

My neck hurts. The pillow was too fluffy, and my back aches, the unfamiliar mattress too hard. I’m also freezing, the thermostat set low because the hotel is supposed to be empty and I didn’t turn it up.

I wander into the main room. Max should be helping Mel, but he and Zarah are watching a movie.

“Ingrid chose a room down the hall and went to bed. I hope that’s okay,” he tells me as I pause near the loveseat. Plates of half-eaten pasta sit in front of them on the coffee table. I slept through dinner.

“As long as Zarah’s all right.”

Max holds her hand, and she smiles at him, her eyes bright. “I’ve got her.”

Warily, I say, “Okay.” I’ve trusted the wrong people for too long, but I can’t lose faith in everyone.

Denton’s nowhere to be seen, and neither is Quinn. Mel’s still at her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys. An empty plate and a mug of coffee sit beside it.

Coffee sounds like a miracle, and I choose a pod from the selection near the Keurig that’s placed in each room.

“Richard said he felt cooped up and he’s poking around the hotel. Quinn wasn’t looking so hot, and I told her to take a pain pill and go to bed.” Mel pauses. “Nathalie showed up,” she says, peering at me over the top of her laptop’s screen. “She’s shaky.”

“Yeah. She’s been working for Ash, and the things he’s made her do haven’t been...”

There are no words that can be spoken aloud to describe what Natalie has been forced to do. Sex worker. As a high-class escort, she’s been treated better than a hooker on Fischer Boulevard, but not by much. I’ll arrange for her to have access to as much therapy as she needs for as long as she needs it.

“Where is she?” I ask. The coffee drips into a Crowne coffee cup, and I inhale the rich scent of the dark roast. My hotels supply nothing but the best, and I appreciate it now.

---